


Sleepover

by A_simple_lee



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Lee!Peter, Ler!Reader, Reader Insert, Tickle fic, Tickling, ticklish!peter, ticklish!peter parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-07 00:17:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18861883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_simple_lee/pseuds/A_simple_lee
Summary: a simple disagreement at Peter’s apartment escalates into a rather one-sided tickle fight, which results in some unexpected discoveries for both you and Peter.





	Sleepover

'Don’t. Say. It.’ You warn, sitting forward on the floor as Peter grins; the room is getting dark as sun sets over Queens - one of you should probably turn a light on, but neither of you can be bothered, way too engaged in your debate. Aunt May is spending the weekend away, so you’re staying overnight, since Ned couldn’t make it.

'I’m gonna say it-’

'Don’t. I’ll-’ A pause. The thought crosses your mind; you brush is away. The thought comes back. Screw it. You’re in a 'ler mood, and you need to make someone laugh.

'I’ll tickle you. Don’t say it.’

Peter’s eyes tell a story within the span of a nanosecond. They widen slightly; he almost backs down. Then, a glimmer of resignation; he’s decided it’s worth it. He opens his mouth. You interject.

'What, you want me to tickle you that badly?’

Your friend seems to hesitate, but ignores you, making direct eye contact as he continues.

'…Star Wars is, and always will be, better than Star Trek.’ His expression is one akin to a hero who knows they’re falling for a noble cause. He moves to get up - you’re one step ahead, immediately tackling him, laughing as he yelps in surprise.

'Take it back!’ You command, wrapping arms around Peter’s torso. The pair of you descend into an utter mess, limbs flailing and shouting lost inbetween bouts of laughter. Before Pete has a chance to fight back, your fingers close around his sides, expertly tweaking and poking his torso to elicit a string of desperate giggles.

'Wahahait, wahahahait!’ He cries, hands pushing at your wrists. There’s no hint of panic in his voice, so you guess it’s just a plea for mercy.

'Nah,’ you grin, trying to gauge where his ticklish spots are. Your fingers trek upwards to tease his ribs, tickling between each one; you note how his laughter hitches when you go for a spot towards the back of an upper rib, and focus your attention on that, earning a string of panicked 'no’s and a few hiccups. His laugh is practically addictive: sweet, and gentle, and downright adorable. You glance at Peter’s face.

Oh no.

Hair messed up, eyes scrunched up slightly in mirth, a smile lighting up his features. He’s blushing, hard, and you notice he hasn’t said anything in a while. It’s entrancing, watching him laugh. You have to rip your gaze away, trying not to stare.

'Jeez, Pete, how ticklish are you?’

'Ahahaha-okahahay, okay! I’m sorry, okahahay!’ Your hands retreat; your mind is reeling, unsure how to process tickling someone properly for the first time in a while. Peter’s residual giggles are the only thing keeping you grounded as you tap his shoulder.

'Hey, apology accepted. But don’t make me tickle you again; you’re too easy to wreck.’

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say Peter looks borderline insulted, but something about his expression tells you it’s more than that. You can’t tell what.

'I fought back, sorta!’

'Please, you cannot call that a tickle fight.’ A beat. The both of you sit still for a moment, one of you getting their breath back.

'Don’t say that word.’ Peter is still blushing.

'What word?’

'…the-you know, the…the one starting with t.’

'Tickle?’

'Yeah, that one.’ He practically folds in on himself. Adorable.

'Did you seriously just avoid saying tickle?’

'Stop saying it!’

'That is too cute.’

No response, only an incoherent noise of complaint.

'Alright, sorry, I’ll stop saying the…t-word.’ You don’t know why it came out like that, but you suppose it’s not exactly a giveaway,

Peter freezes. 'Wait-’

'Yeah?’

'Did-you, um- this is gonna sound weird, but did you hear that from somewhere?’ He asks, getting up and heading to the light switch.

You didn’t think it was possible to feel the colour leaving your face.

'You mean, did I hear-’

’T-word. Did you hear it from somewhere?’ Maybe he’s asking about something else, you frantically reason. Nonetheless, asking your own question couldn’t do too much harm.

'Wait, are you referring to what I think you’re-’

'Maybe?’

’-are you a-’

'…'Lee?’ Peter utters hesitantly, not quite meeting your gaze. Your heart stops. The light comes on.

’-'ler. I’m Uh- I’m a 'ler.’

The rest of the evening blurs into one of the warmest memories you’ll ever make. It gets later and darker outside, but the two of you are way too engaged in your debate to go to bed.


End file.
